An army of officers, dressed in black combat uniforms, loaded every weapon in their deadly arsenal into various vehicles parked in the rear of Club Candy Cane. Standing on the dock with his arms crossed was John Hart, overlooking his minions like an evil emperor, seething with greed. With billions for the taking, his selfish desires would be fulfilled by morning. His mood rapidly changed, however, upon receiving a call from the pilot who narrowly escaped the Times Square onslaught. “Didn’t I tell you to maintain radio silence until morning?” he scolded. “You know what’s at stake tonight, right? So why would you choose to bother me NOW with your backyard nonsense? HUH?! Jeez! I knew you were as dumb as you looked, but this goes far and beyond my ALREADY low expectations! You got ten seconds to convince me why you thought it was a good idea to interrupt my moment of triumph! Ten seconds or else I’m going to rip your throat out and feed it to the sewer rats! Got that moron?! Okay?! GO!”
Gulping and ventilating, the pilot’s quivering jaw uttered, “We messed up... she got away.”
John thought the world had stopped. He heard nothing but his heartbeat while feeling endless pints of blood rush up to his ears. “N-n-n – no-no! No! NO! NO!!!!!” he denied. “What do you mean she got away? You meant to say that she passed away like she had a heart attack before you buried fifty bullets in her chest, right?! Please tell me this is some kind of sick joke!! C’mon, somebody! Please! Anybody!! Tell me!! IS THIS A JOKE?!!”
“Sir…she got away…we got taken out by...a woman...with red hair. Sir...
sh-sh-she said she’s c-co – coming for you.”
All John could hear was the bantering Grandpa will give him once he gets ahold of this news: “How could you have messed this up, John?! - Are you too stupid to kill one Angelite?! - You’re a disgrace!”
“DAMMIT!!!!” he yelled. “All of you morons couldn’t take down one woman?! WHAT THE HELL IS THE POINT OF KEEPING YOU ON MY PAYROLL?!!! I got enough damn janitors in my club, so I sure as hell don’t need any ON MY DAMN TEAM!!!! AND WHERE THE HELL IS CAT?!!!!”
“I don’t know,” the pilot stammered. “...Don’t know what the hell is going on.” He sobbed. “I’m sorry sir...I’m so-o-oo-orr-rey-y!!!”
As the brigade of cops below the dock showed concerned for their distraught leader, John tightly closed his eyes as if he was about to cry. But to keep up team morale, he calmed down and thought on his feet. “She got away, huh?” he repeated.
“I’ll work all through the night, sir,” the pilot pledged. “I’ll search every borough, every street in this city! They’ll be no stone left unturned, sir! And I won’t rest until I – ACK! ...AUGH!!!”
John heard a mix of gags and slashes on the other line. Heavy breathing ensued afterward. “I assume that’s you, Cat,” he said. “Hmm, I don’t understand it. You were one of our top assassins. I treated you like family. Like a girlfriend
I almost loved. How could you of all people have screwed this up? I’m disappointed in you.” Huffing and puffing grew stronger. “However, you’ve proven yourself worthy over the years. Therefore, I’m going to give you another chance to redeem yourself. I want Goldberg and Mercedes dead before sunrise. Because if they’re not, then you will be. I take it we understand each other. Out.”
From pure frustration, John launched his phone into the river and stomped off the dock. Cheers erupted from the pit of officers as they ran to their vehicles shouting, “Our world! Our world!” He climbed on the top of an armored truck and announced to his minions, “We’re going to hit that bank hard! You guys get to the vault and don’t leave any bills crumpled on the floor! I want these trucks filled to the brim with green and gold! Eliminate every member of the bank’s security! Kill anyone who opposes you! If Natalie Mercedes shows up, then
kill her, too! KILL EVERYONE THAT STANDS IN OUR WAY!!!! But no one touches Vasquez! She’s for me!”